The Girl Who Set the Spark
by Frigonfic
Summary: It started with a spark. Katniss Everdeen was the girl who blazed the fire, but someone else started the spark that later ignited Panem into a rebellion. It was done unknowingly, but one girl started the movement that would change everything.
1. Just Breathe

**Hullo everybody!**

**Long time no posting. Sorry about that - I was just too lazy to rewrite my other story, Heart of Stone. **

**Anyways, this is a new story - a Finnick/OC story, which was requested. It will be told in four parts - this story being part one. Enjoy and tell me what you think!**

"Donnie, wake up." I said softly as I prodded her gently.

The little girl only mumbled softly and turned the other way.

I sighed softly and walked away, cursing myself for not being a little more harsh and shaking her awake.

Instead, I walked to the small wardrobe and pulled out my best dress – an ironed and flowing white dress. I slipped it on and tied the white sash tightly around my waist.

"Donnie," I called, "Time to wake up!"

The little girl grumbled and rolled out of bed.

"Where we going?" she yawned.

"Today's the day of the Reapings." I said softly. "Don't you remember?"

"Weepings?" Donnie repeated, her little baby teeth mispronouncing the word.

"Yes, Donnie." I smiled sadly. "The Weepings."

"Why we have go?" she said sleepily, trotting to the washroom.

"We just have to, Donnie." I said, following her.

I helped Donnie into her pale blue dress and tied her hair into a tight bun while she moaned and fidgeted the whole time.

"Keep _still, _Donnie." I pleaded. "Please."

My voiced cracked on the word _please. _Donnie stopped fidgeting and looked up at me.

"Sissy sad?" she said simply.

"Yes." I sighed. "Sissy is very sad."  
I tied the rest of Donnie's dark blonde hair into a bun and patted her off the stool. She wobbled off to the family room, no doubt to get something to eat.

When she left, I turned back to the mirror. My eyes were slightly pink-tinged and I hoped that nobody would be able to realize that I had cried myself to sleep the night before.

With another deep sigh, I join Donnie in the family room for breakfast.

Every step is a knife to my heart. Every breath is painful. Everything about today is breaking the carefully-sewn heart I have. I hold Donnie's hand tight and walk, forcing myself to take one step in front of the other.

_The Reapings._

I never did like them, never did like the Hunger Games in general. Nobody in our district did. But me in particular, I couldn't stand them.

I couldn't watch the Hunger Games without having to hold in tears, or scream, even though I was safe and sound on the couch at home.

The Reapings made my knees wobbly and my breath come short every single year, ever since I was twelve. But this year was worse. This year was to the point of unbearable, every second coming with a terrible memory.

When we finally reached the Town Square, I felt like I was going to be sick, or cry, or both.

I was squeezing Donnie's hand so hard I could hear her whimpers, and I immediately let go. I ushered her to the pen where the children under the age of twelve go.

I was not worried for Donnie. She was at the innocent age of five, and had seven more years before she would be entered in the draw.

I wasn't too worried about myself either. I was only fifteen; my name only in the draw four times.

I didn't care about myself. I just wanted to get through today and continue living my life. The past year has been hard on me, and today would be the worst day of it all. As soon as I get over today, everything will slowly get better.

I walked robotically to the fifteen-year old girl's area and stood next to two girls, both who were shorter than me.

_Breathe in, breathe out. This will all be over in an hour. Breathe in, breathe out._

I didn't listen to anything. Everything was tuned out.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Marliese Canory, our district's escort from the Capitol, walked up to the sphere with all of our names in it.

There is tension in the air as she fishes around the bowl for a slip, everybody holding in their breaths. But not I. I take in deep, shaky breaths of air, reminding myself to keep on breathing.

Her hand catches a slip. She walks back to the podium and unfurls it slowly.

"This year's female tribute representing District 5 for the 69th Hunger Games is Anxol Enkeli!" she announces with her strange Captiol accent.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Everybody is staring at me.

Did I forget to wash my face? Do I have something on my teeth?

_Breathe in, breathe out._

They are looking at me with sympathy and pity. This is nothing. I have been getting those looks all year. But why now, during the Reapings?

The Peacekeepers are coming towards me.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

What have I done wrong?

Wait. Pause. Rewind.

What did she say?

Somebody pushes me out of my spot with the girls.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

She said… she said…

The Peacekeepers practically carry me to the stage.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

She said my name.

I am District 5's female tribute for this year's Hunger Games.

**A bit short, I know. But they will get longer, I promise! **

**Any comments, feedback, questions? Reviews as usual, are always appreciated.**


	2. Impossible

**Hey (:**

**Thanks for clicking, and hopefully you'll stick around to read.**

**So this chapter is in Finnick's POV. It's really short, but I promise that the chapters will get longer.**

**Moving on to the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Everything unfortunately belongs to Suzanne Collins. **

Finnick's POV

I am watching the Reapings live. District 4's reapings has just finished, and I am sitting in the lavish train, watching the Reapings for District 5, which has started as soon as District 4's has ended.

Another year gone by. Another twenty-three children dead.

I watch mindlessly, not paying attention to the speeches they make at the beginning of every Reaping.

I am only watching to see who my tribute's competition is.

For three years I have been a mentor. Six children dead. All my fault.

This year, I plan on getting District 4 another tribute.

The Capitol escort walks onto the stage.

This is the part I hate the most. The anxiety, the fear, just radiating from the whole district.

_Don't let my sister be chosen._

_Don't let my son be chosen._

_Don't let my friend be chosen._

Nobody wants to go up, but somebody must. All everybody can do is to hope that nobody they love is picked.

The escort fishes around the sphere for a name from the girl's jar. She finally picks one out and reads out the name.

"This year's female tribute representing District 5 for the 69th Hunger Games is Anxol Enkeli!" she announces.

A strange name. It sounds…different. As if it doesn't quite belong in Panem. It sounds beautifully exotic, like a faraway land that doesn't exist.

Nobody goes to the podium. All of the district's eyes turn to a girl, but still, nobody goes up.

I see the Peacekeepers starting to move.

The cameras follow the direction of the eyes, landing on a girl in the fifteen year old pen.

I do a double take.

She looks exactly as her name sounds. She's taller than most girls, willowy and almost nymph-like. Her hair is tied up in a bun, though some long strands are escaping; her hair a strange white-blonde colour. Her skin is pale, as if it has never seen the sun before.

But that is not why I am so shocked. I could've sworn I've seen that face before, but that's not possible.

Because that person is dead.

**Cliffhanger! (not really)**

**Thanks for sticking around this long. What did you think of the chapter?**

**Reviews are always appreciated.**

**Next chapter coming up soon!**


	3. Goodbyes

**Hello to all my fellow readers!**

**First of all, I'd like to thank you all for reading! And for those who reviewed any of my stories, thank you, thank you very much. It really makes my day.**

**I promise I'll try to find some time to update Heart of Stone. It shouldn't take too long, but hopefully I can get that one done soon so I can focus on this story.**

**Anyways, I won't delay you guys any longer!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the wonderful trilogy; The Hunger Games. **

I sit in the lush waiting room, saying my last goodbyes.

Donnie has already came in, and I pet her, soothe her, and tell her everything is okay. She believes me, of course. At the age of five, she does not know what the Hunger Games are. She only knows I am going away. I hold back tears as she walks out the door for what could be the last time in my life.

Next, an official looking man enters. I try to smile at him, but I give up.

There's no way I can smile now.

The man sits next to me and shows me some official looking papers.

"These are for your sister." He explains.

"Why?" I ask sadly. "What does she need?"

"Parental guidance." He answers. "Since you are no longer in District Five as to this day forward, she will need somebody to take care of her. Our agency will see to that. All you need to do is to sign here."

He hands me a pen and the paper.

I hesitate before signing.

"Can you promise me something?" I ask timidly. The man nods.

"Can you promise me that you will take care of my sister at your agency, but you will not give her away until I… well, you know." I request softly.

"I promise." He says seriously. I look into his eyes. I know he is not lying.

"And can you make sure she doesn't see this year's Hunger Games?" I close my eyes, trying to block out the vision of Donnie seeing me dead and lifeless.

"I promise." The man says solemnly.

With that, I sign neatly on the line and give the paper and pen back to the man.

Before he leaves, the man turns around.

"Good luck, Anxol. You will represent us well." He says, with a hint of the faintest smiles.

This time, I manage a small smile back.

Mayor Delan, the mayor of District 5, is my next visitor. We started talking a year ago, after the incident. He's been making sure Donnie and I had everything we needed to survive, and also made sure we weren't shipped off to some family in District 8 or something. I guess you could say he was almost a father figure to me.

Almost.

He rushes in, tired with creases on his forehead.

"Anxol, my dear." Mayor Delan smile feebly. "How are you feeling?"  
"I've felt better." I admit.

"Of course you have, my dear." He sits down next to me and pats me. "I know that this is all very rough for you; worse than any one else that could've been picked."

I don't say anything, only stare at the wall blankly.

"Anxol, my dear, I just wanted to let you know that the whole district is behind you." Mayor Delan says gently. "We will do anything in our power to help you."  
"Oh, Delan. You don't have to." I smile sadly, tears welling up in my eyes. "You know I'm not going to win anyways."

"It's the best we can do for you, Anxol, after all that happened at last year's Games." Mayor Delan said, grabbing me into a bear hug.

Truthfully, I don't mind too much. I hug him back fiercely, and he lets go.

"Good luck, Anxol." He says, getting up to leave.

"Thank you." I replied, meaning it.

"Oh, and Anxol, dear," He says before closing the door. "The odds may not have been in your favour today, but remember that you can always change the odds."

I nod solemnly.

It's no use, I tell myself.

I already know I am going to die.

**A bit short, I know. I promise the next one will be a lot longer. Or at least longer.**

**Thanks for reading, and as usual, reviews are always appreciated!**


	4. The Capitol

**Hey guys!**

**Well, I've been checking the chapters I've written so far, and most of them (if not all) are really short, at least to my standards. I will be editing them to try and add a bit more detail, but for the most part, they probably won't increase in length by much.**

**To compensate for this, I will be posting two chapters (maybe three?) per day. **

**Message or put in your reviews if you think that this is too much, or too little.**

**Anyways, onto the story!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the brilliant Suzanne Collins. **

The train stops at the Captiol.

I can't help but to let out a small gasp.

It's beautiful. I never thought I'd see the Captiol, and I honestly never did really want to. But now, seeing it for the first time, there are no other words to describe the Captiol except _beautiful._

The colours were bright compare to District 5's drab colours, the buildings tall and looming, the people outrageous and bizarre.

It's so _different, _so _strange._

I barely hold back another wave of tears as I wonder how it must've been like last year.

I step off the train and was led to a large, luxurious room. The size of it was twice the size of my house, and the bathroom itself was as large as my house.

All of the furniture, the colours, the fabrics, all screamed _luxury. _

I was hesitant to even stand in the room, for fear of ruining it with my dirty, sloppy self.

Suddenly, there were a few knocks on the door, and I am greeted by a bunch of Capitol people, who introduce themselves as Veriah, Lycel, and Noima.

They then proceed to give me a full body makeover, exclaiming over every little thing about me.

I crossed my arms across my chest, self conscious and very aware of their presence.

"Oh, don't be shy!" One of the girls – I think Veriah – said. "You are a gorgeous creature!"

"There is so much to work with!" Lycel exclaimed, dunking me into the tub and scrubbing my skin raw.

"Fesiena is going to _love _you!" Noima gushed while peeling off some sticky wax that they put on my legs. I barely bit back a scream.

They buzzed around me, peeling off more wax, cutting my hair, doing things to my face.

By the time they finished, I was dazed, numb, and slightly woozy. I waved a small good-bye to the three of them.

Oh, Captiol people. So privileged. So oblivious.

And apparently, so _loud._

When they walked out, another girl walked in. She had bright orange hair, and strange blue makeup on her face, probably tattooed on. She was wearing matching green and yellow clothes that I couldn't describe – too Captiol for any words.

She squealed with delight when she saw me.

"Do I finally get something good this year?" she said excitedly, like all the tributes before her were presents, not people.

I felt a twinge of annoyance at her words - we were people - people who lived and breathed and loved and cried and -

And eventually die.

"I'm Fesiena, your designer." She smiles widely, revealing gleaming white teeth.

"Anxol." I smile back, though it's not heartfelt.

"Lovely." She beams. I can see it in her eyes that she's not paying attention to what I'm saying. I bet all she wants is to be ranked up higher in the Capitol, to get District 1 or 2 to dress.

I am nothing. I am only a stepping stone towards success to her.

She circles me, taking note of every little detail.

"Yes, you. I can work with you. The ideas are limitless." She breathes. "I already have a vision in my head. From your Reapings. I know what to do. This is amazing."

I stand there awkwardly as she circles around me once more. Her eyes are unnatural, her whole being too quick, too jumpy. I was used to slow, calm working.

But the Capitol is the opposite of everything I've ever known.

I get dressed and I sit down next to her.

"I've got a brilliant idea for you, my lovely." She proclaims. "You shall be my artwork, my masterpiece."

I smile awkwardly. My suspicions were right. Just another stepping stone.

"For the Opening Ceremony, you will be wrapped in wires. Lights. Electricity. My lovely, you will be _glowing. _And I mean it literally." She said excitedly, arms waving everywhere.

"That's… great." I answered nervously. My annoyance turns into slight fear.

What is she going to _do _to me?

After hours of nerve-wracking designing, Fesiena shows me her creation. Before I can protest - or even open my mouth to add in my input, I'm forced into my dress and painted with colors .

Fesiena pushes me towards the chariots, mindlessly chattering the whole entire way.

I enter the chariot, wearing Fesiena's creation of wires. To be honest, the design itself isn't too terrible – the wires are weaving in a beautiful, intricate pattern, and the dress itself isn't revealing – with two thick straps and ending at my knees.

It was the lights. Every wire was shining brightly, glowing, and sparkling.

I was practically a lamp post, or the sun.

As the chariot rolls out, I remember my Captiol escort's words – _Be friendly. Be happy. They want to see you shining. When they see something they like, they will sponsor you, and you will need all the sponsors you can get._

Marliese was right. I needed sponsors to win – _if _I win. But I will need them. And now I must earn them.

I smile at the crowd and wave. In my mind, I imagine I am back in District 5, two years ago, walking down the street and waving to all of my friends.

I walk alongside my tribute partner – what was his name again? I feel so bad for not knowing, practically ignoring him the whole way through. I should apologize before he thinks I'm a snob.

I wave and smile my normal smile, and I see my tribute partner do the same, his smile confident like he's already won.

President Snow makes a long speech, and I try my best to pay attention, but distraction wins through.

All of the teachers back at home make fun of me because I have the shortest attention span they've ever seen when it comes to speeches – I can barely attention for two seconds during any speech.

I wonder how my teachers feel right now, watching me in this silly dress, only days away from my impending death.

I stop all of my thoughts, not letting myself wander onto that topic.

_Don't think about that. You have to win. For Donnie. For District 5. _

I snap my attention to the speech and try to forget about everything else.

Snow's eyes are hard and icy, though he says words of warm welcome. I sneak a quick look around me, sizing up the competition - they were all bigger than me, taller than me, stronger than me.

My stomach plummets at the thought of these kids formulating a million ideas to kill me within a few days.

Snow's speech ends quickly, and we're wheeled away from the staring eyes of the Capitol.

Back in the private comfort of the floor we were staying in, our mentor, Vinster Warren – who won the 55th Hunger Games after drowning his ally – tells us how we're going to train.

"Shaye – you're going to be working with me after lunch for the next three days. In the Training Centre, work on your spear-throwing skills and hunting." Vinster instructs my district partner.

So that's his name. I didn't even hear it being announced. Was he scared? Was he nervous? Or did he wear that confidant smile? I'm sure the Capitol citizens love him already; someone big enough to give them a show. My brain stops whirring with thoughts when I hear Vincster address me.

"And you – " Vincster said, looking at me. "will be working with Marliese. Train for – uh – knife throwing. And edible plants."

I nod, slightly disappointed. My heart sinks. It was clear that Vinster has already chosen to help Shaye win, leaving me for the kill.

I sneak a glance at Shaye – tall, muscular, and a good head taller than me, which was saying something, since I already was considered quite tall. It was obvious why Vinster would pick him.

I had apologized to Shaye earlier for ignoring him all throughout the train ride, and all he did was sneer and say that he and Vinster didn't care squat about me.

I walked back to my room, most definitely not ready for tomorrow's training.

Vinster has chosen Shaye.

I will be stuck with Marliese.

One training to kill while the other training to impress.

Before I sink into a horrible depression, I remember Mayor Delan's words.

_You can always change the odds._

**So what happened last year, you may ask?**

**Whatever it was, it probably wasn't too good, judging from Anxol's feelings.**

**What do you think happened? Perhaps you've already figured it out - a few hints have been dotted around the past chapters.**

**It won't stay a mystery forever - don't worry. **

**Anyways, thanks for reading! Reviews are always welcome and appreciated.**

**Next chapters up tomorrow!**


	5. Familiar Faces

**Another day, another chapter!**

**Thanks for clicking and (hopefully) reading!**

**Anyways, not to delay you any longer. Onwards to the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

Finnick'S POV

"Haymitch!" I hiss sharply at the napping man. "Wake up!"  
"Whazzdemaddur?" He grumbles out.

"Shouldn't you be training your tributes, Haymitch?" I prod him none too gently. "It's only a week before the tributes are sent to the arena!"

"Duzzentmaddur." He mumbles and turns away from me on his chair.

We were sitting at a table, watching the tributes train in the Training Centre.

"God, Haymitch. You're just going to let them die like that?" I snap at him.

How could he possibly face the two tributes and just _sleep, _knowing that they were about to die and that it was going to be _all his fault _for not being able to help?

"They were hopeless from the start." He said, reaching for another bottle of beer.

"You're just a pocketful of sunshine, aren't you?" I said irritably.

"You know it, hun." Haymitch replies with a mouthful of beer.

I'm not too sure why I stay around Haymitch. Truth to be told, the other victors all treat me like a baby - always looking at me with those sad eyes and sympathetic smiles.

I don't need them. I don't want them.

Maybe it's because Haymitch is the only one here who treats me normally without those pitiful glances. I've been here for four years and still the other victors treat me like some baby bird.

Haymitch isn't the best of company, but I guess it'll only be a few more years until the other victors start acting normally around me.

I am just like them. I do not need, do not want, them to feel bad for me. I am no different and no longer a scared tribute.

I do not need to be reminded of what I do.

We watch the tributes in silence. Some of them are excelling; beheading, stabbing, and killing their training dummies. Most are just trying to find something to do that will help them survive the bloodbath.

One person though, stands out from the crowd.

The girl from 5.

She's sitting cross-legged at the Edible Plants centre, the only one there, pointing to different pictures of plants and nodding at the teacher.

She smiles faintly when the teacher tells her she got the plant correct.

"Who's that?" I nudge Haymitch, pointing to the girl.

"Well." He replies slowly, like I was stupid. "That's the female tribute for District 5."

"I know that!" I snap irritably. "I mean, why does she look so familiar?"

"Starting to remember faces now, eh?" Haymitch chuckles bitterly, taking another swig of his beer.

Of course I remember the faces. How can I not? They all trusted me, all relied on me. How could I forget?

"Just tell me, Haymitch." I watch her intently. She's staring at a plant, holding it up.

"You remember last year's District Five male?" Haymitch answers, slurring slightly. "Twins."

I open my mouth to retort to Haymitch that that's not possible, but then I snap it back shut.

I look at the girl. Then I remember the boy from my memory.

His presence is vague in my memory, but he had the combination of looks that made him stand out.

The same white-blonde hair. The same pale skin. The same pale grey eyes.

They are twins.

"Starting to come to you now, eh?" Haymitch stares at the girl, too. There's something in his eyes that I can't read. I shake it off as the alcohol.

"The Captiol did this, didn't they?" I ask Haymitch, already knowing the answer.

There was no way that a set of twins were picked to fight in the Hunger Games, especially only a year apart from each other. It was too coincidental. The reason why the boy died – so obviously the Captiol's doing – I know that they were punishing him, and now they are punishing her, too.

But what exactly is the Capitol punishing them for?

It was the Capitol's doing. I know it. It is just like how they picked the female tribute for District 4 – my tribute girl. She's pregnant, only by three months, but still pregnant.

Pregnant, single, unmarried. She was chosen and I know she will die. The Capitol is punishing her.

Suddenly, the girl – her name is Anxol, I remember – stares straight at me.

They were using two-way mirrors. On her side she only sees a reflection of herself, but I can see her from my side.

But yet, she stares at me straight in the eye, piercing me with those pale grey eyes, as if she could see me through the wall.

**Shocker!**

**Are your questions answered? Or did you already figure it out? **

**Hopefully they are, but more details will be provided in further chapters!**

**Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated. **


	6. Obedience

**A bit longer this time, thankfully.**

**But still not as long as I am used to. Not by a long shot.**

**Oh well. Better than nothing.**

**Anyways, enough ranting - onto the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

Anxol's POV

I am not the type of girl to disobey rules.

I am not the type of girl to be rebellious.

But this is the Hunger Games.

I am no longer the pitiful, quiet girl.

I am no longer the girl who will apologize for things that aren't her fault.

I will not die in the hands of the Capitol.

And I will do what it takes to win.

And the easiest way to prepare to win is to train.

I will not listen to Vinster. I will prove to him that I am not some stupid _delicate_ little girl who will die on the very first day.

I will _not _lose, will _not _the Capitol take me, too.

I will win.

I trained at night, where no one will see me.

I trained at night, so no one will know what I can do.

During the day, I am working with Marliese on my etiquette and manners for my interviews. She is pleased with me, saying that I am charming and sweet.

I want to impress Marliese with my interview, and win the hearts of everybody in the Captiol so they will help me.

I will _make _them help me. It's the least they can do for me after all they've done.

I endure Marliese's constant lectures on posture, and now I sit with a straight, elegant back.

I live through Marliese's gruelling high heel training, and now I can even run in them.

I survive Marliese's boot camp for smiling and manners, and now I can charm even the most stoic man in the Capitol.

I am smiling by day and killing by night.

The days pass by fast, with my hectic routine and crazy plan that I may somehow win the Hunger Games. The day of the judging arrives quickly. I sit and wait impatiently. I was nervous, but also wanting to get it over with.

Sitting with nothing to do, my mind wanders. I wonder what Donnie is doing now. I hope the agency is at is treating her well.

Remembering the man who visited me with the papers, I know that she is in safe hands. I trust him.

I only worry about her. I remembered last year, she had so many questions that I would not answer. I know that she will be worried for me, and hoping that will come back soon.

It breaks my heart to think that I will have to crush her hopes by never returning.

I can try, of course. But it's the Hunger Games - the odds aren't always in your favor.

Lately, they clearly haven't.

She is a curious little child, and a bit mischievous, though she is a bundle of energy. She is enthusiastic and bubbly, and I hope that whatever the future has in store for us, she will be happy.

Even though I may not be in that future.

My heart breaks as I try to imagine her all grown up without me, getting married without me by her side, having her first child without me there to hold her hand.

I swallow a lump in my throat and hold back any tears that were threatening to fall.

It kills me to leave her behind, even though it's not my fault and I don't want to.

I wonder if it was like this for him last year?

They call my name. I snap out of my thoughts and stand up absentmindedly.

I walk into the judging room, feeling all eyes on me.

And I wonder if I have the heart to enter the arena and win.

I won't kill.

It's not a matter of _can't. _I know I can. One plunge into the heart and it's good-bye to you.

But I _won't. _

I don't want to. I am Anxol, the sweet girl at school who would never hurt a fly.

I am not ready to kill a human being. I may never be ready.

But I must. It's the Hunger Games.

Kill or be killed.

And I already promised myself that I would win.

But does it mean I can kill a human being, who is just like me?

I sigh, brush those thoughts off and pick the weapon of my choice – a knife.

Original, I know.

I realized I could use all of the weapons there quite easily – something that scared me and relieved me at the same time – but in the end I figured a knife was the best way to go since there was bound to be a lot of those in the Cornucopia.

I pick up my knife and begin.

They watch me, and though I have never liked being in the centre of attention, I am glad that they are. The judging is long and tense, pressure to hit every target, to use every ounce of strength I have.

I leave the room exhausted but pleased with myself. I train some more in the Training Centre while the remaining tributes go to their judging.

Night falls shortly, and I am forced to return to my floor with Vinster and Shaye to see my scores for the judging.

I sit on the couch next to Marliese. She's not too bad, kind of like a very garish and strict about etiquette mother.

We watch the scores for each tribute's judging. Districts 1, 2, and 4, the Careers, all had high scores – around nine or ten – except for one girl. The girl from District 4 only got a five, unusually low for a Career tribute.

I didn't understand why. She looked like any other girl from District 4 – bright sea blue eyes and long sandy brown hair.

When it was time to show District 5's scores, Marliese surprised me by holding my hand and squeezing it tightly. I squeezed it back, shocked but at the same time very comforted.

I look at her, and she gives me a small smile.

The scores show.

Shaye gets an 8 – high for a non-Career tribute.

I see my face on the screen and a number beside it.

It's a 9.

**Surprised? Shocked? Amazed?**

**What did you think? Any questions?  
Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave any reviews - of course, they are always appreciated. **


	7. Seeing Double

**Hey guys!**

**Next chapter up (obviously). **

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**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins.**

My eyes pop out at the number.

A _nine?_

I look at the number a few more times before it disappears, just to make sure I didn't get it wrong.

The judges rarely – if _ever _– give a nine to a non-Career tribute.

Marliese squeals and pulls me into a hug, which I return, dazed.

Vinster and Shaye glare at me.

When we leave, Vinster pulls me aside.

"What did you do?" He hisses venomously.

He's probably already bet all his money on Shaye, a new District 5 winner. And then I swing by and prove to him that I'm better than Shaye.

I almost feel bad for a second. I know how hard it is to earn money, and for it to all to go down the drain - it's unbelievable.

But then a voice snaps at me and slaps me internally, telling me that Vinster's a _victor, _who has an endless bounty of riches. And his job was to help me win, though admittedly, I can see why he would prefer to help Shaye.

"I don't know." I reply honestly. _I _didn't even know what I did to get a nine.

I backtrack a few hours. I threw some knives. I threw a spear or two. I think I swung an axe at the target. I might have even thrown a trident, even though I know that weapon practically belongs to Finnick Odair.

I used everything they gave us, trying to show them all I could do. I'm pretty sure everything I threw hit its target, too.

Was that all it took to earn a nine?

I was scared at how easy it was for me use a weapon, throw it, and hit the target accurately.

Back in my room, I laughed bitterly.

Who would have thought that sweet, friendly, and innocent Anxol could earn a nine, labelling her as one of the deadliest competitors in the arena?

I definitely didn't.

With one more glare at me, Shaye leaves the room, sulky and brooding. Vinster follows him quickly, and he, too, glares at me before leaving.

Marliese sighs loudly, muttering something like, '_men_' underneath her breath before ushering me to my sleeping quarters.

I obey her and crawl into the overly soft bed.

I toss in turn for what seems like hours before dozing into a fitful sleep.

_I scream a loud, bloodcurdling scream._

_Somebody pats me on the head and gives me tissues for my tears, but no one tells me to be quiet._

_It is in the middle of the night, and I am sure the whole building has heard me._

_But we are in the basement. No one is here but me and the friendly landlord, Jinlea. Nobody can hear my screams and no one can hear the TV playing out the fate for my other half._

_I screamed often while watching the Hunger Games, but this year, I screamed even more._

"_Enkol…" I moaned, tears running down my face._

"_He's fine, Anxol. He's fine, look." Jinlea soothingly, though I can hear in her voice that she does not believe herself._

"_How can he be fine, Jin? Look at him!" I sob._

_There was a deep gash on his arm, from the Career boy he just escaped from. _

_He was so close. So close to coming home to me and Donnie. It was just him and the boy from District 2 left. _

_But my brother will not kill. He is a good person. I know that. He is my twin._

_I didn't want the Career boy to die. But I didn't want my twin brother to die even more._

_He was running, running away from the boy and the knife that could end his life._

_It was raining. It has been raining for days, flooding areas of the arena until the two of them had to meet._

_It was hopeless. There was water everywhere, and my brother could not swim._

_He turns, and I pray in my head, that someone, anyone, in the heavens will save him somehow._

_He looks at the water that flooded the swamp and then he looks back to the direction he came from, where the Career boy was._

_Then he looks at the knife in his hand._

_Enkol has not killed anybody in the Games. _

_He continues staring at the knife and gives it a little nod. I know he has made up his mind. He is my twin. I know the way he operates, the way he thinks._

_He grips the knife tightly and waits for the Career boy to come so he can kill him and win._

_So he can come back home._

_Come back to me. _

_But then it happens._

_It comes down in a bright flash, brighter than anything I've ever seen._

_A bolt of lightning. And it hits my brother directly._

_I scream, my lungs bursting._

_He falls to the ground, twitching. The cameras zoom in on him, ready to see his death._

_I am not. I am not ready to see my own double die right in front of me. _

_I can see the electric currents on his skin, no doubt searching for an organ to fry and kill him._

_Tears are pouring from my eyes like the rain in the arena._

_Jin is holding my arm so tightly I can barely feel it any more._

"_An..xol…" He croaks out. The tears flow fast and thick until I can barely see him anymore._

"_You were always the better twin." He chokes out. _

_I'm crying so hard I feel like I'm drowning in my own tears._

"_No, no, no," I moan to the screen."You're the better twin En, just please come back."  
"Care…Bella…love…" He gasps out. He's holding onto life now. The electric currents are frying him inside out and yet he's still holding on._

_That's just like Enkol. Stubborn. Strong. _

_His lips form a word, but it never comes out. _

_His eyes go blank. The same eyes as mine. _

_The cannon rings._

_I howl with misery. _

_He's gone._

I scream as I bolt awake. As soon as I realize where I am, I clench my mouth close.

The tears are running down my face again.

I lie down and try to fall back asleep again, but I can't.

He is me and I am him. Born together and die together. That's the way things were supposed to be.

We were inseparable at birth and inseparable until his death.

We were supposed to be inseparable forever.

But now he's up there and I'm down here and things aren't right.

Twins. I am the mirror of him and he is the mirror of me. Whenever I look in the mirror I see him.

It feels unfair. Twins are born together and they are supposed to die together. We are supposed to die together, but I am still here, and it feels like I got something he never had.

I don't like that feeling.

I don't like any of this.


	8. Thinking Back

**Hullo!**

**Thanks for clicking and reading!**

**Yes, I know it's a short chapter again - sorry about that.**

**I've really got to start adding more detail to these chapters. **

**Anyways, onto the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins. **

The next day, Marliese is just a bundle of energy. She practically_ pounces _on me and squeals right into my ear.

"Congratulations, An-hol!" She squeals happily.

"Thanks, Marliese." I smile faintly at her. The Capitol people can't quite say my name properly with their accents, so each one of them seems to call me something different. Marliese calls me 'An-hol', which is the closest one, Fesiena calls me 'lovely' or 'Angel', and Lycel, Veriah, and Noima just call me 'girl'.

I don't blame them. Most people couldn't pronounce my name, accent or not.

Enkol used to call me Axle. I used to call him Wheel. Wheel and Axle. He came first, and we always follow each other.

"Why the long face, An-hol?" Marliese pouts. "Where's your bright smile?"  
I turn up my smile up a thousand megawatts. It's brighter, but it's also fake.

"There it is, that beautiful smile!" Marliese claps her hands. "I hope you wear that smile for the interviews."  
"Of course I will." I continue smiling. My face hurts and my brain whirs.

"I am sure that you will do well in your interview." Marliese pats my head. "You have done so well so far."

"The boy, on the other hand," Marliese's smile disappears, replaced with a slight frown, "is a terrible mess. He is too sloppy, and his speech is too jumbled up."

"The Capitol doesn't like that?" I question, surprised that Shaye wasn't slick and easygoing, like how he always seems.

"No, they do not." She taps my back and I straighten it even more. "How are we supposed to understand him if his speech is all mixed up? Silly girl."

I only smile and nod.

"Now, let us pretend we are at the interviews again…"

I smile and answer the answers the best I can, while still being the me back in District 5.

I can't tell if it's just an act, or if I really am still me.

I have heard that the Hunger Games change people.

I just hope that it does not change me too much.

While we practice for the interviews, my mind wanders - and it wanders to a subject that I try not to think about, yet I do every single day.

Enkol's Games. He wore the same ridiculous glowing suit that I did. He got a six for his training – he wasn't as bulky as most guys. He was charming and funny during his interview.

He ran away from the Cornucopia. He operated alone. He got nothing from his sponsors. He would not kill anybody. He hunted for animals and dared to build a fire.

He was funny. He was spontaneous. He was a daredevil. He was bright. He was loud. He was cheerful. He was independent. He was a troublemaker.

He likes apples. He dislikes grapes. He likes to run. He played with Donnie. He called Donnie Bella. He always washed the dishes. He dislikes doing the laundry. He sneaks out at night. He hates the Capitol. He always gets in trouble. He played pranks on me. He was protective of me. He sings. He loves the colour blue. He has a birthmark on his neck while I have one on my collarbone. He is exactly 1 minute and 57 seconds older than me and loves to remind me of this.

He is my twin.

He is my brother.

And he is dead.

**So, how did you like it?**

**Any comments? Questions? Feedback? Feel free to share what you think in the reviews!**

**As always, the reviews are always welcome & appreciated. **

**Thanks for reading and next chapter up tomorrow!**


	9. Smile

Hey there!

Thanks for reading - I really appreciate it.

Not too much to say besides ENJOY!

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games trilogy.**

* * *

"Stand up, let me see how you look." Fesiena commands.

I obey, legs shaky from the heels and material in my way.

Lycel, Veriah, and Noima all gasp in awe.

Fesiena breaks out a large bream of pride.

Standing there, I am glad that I have made somebody happy, even if it is for just a few seconds.

"You look beautiful." Lycel gasps.

"Amazing." Veriah says in awe.

"Angelic." Noima breathes.

"Are you done?" Marliese walks into the room impatiently, but stops and gasps when she sees me.

"Oh, An-hol!" She rushes towards me and hugs me.

Marliese has grown on me, I will admit.

I'd never thought I'd see a Capitol woman as a mother figure, but I do with Marliese.

"Good luck, Anxol." She pulls back and smiles at me. "You'll do amazing."

I can only pray that she's right.

Finnick's POV

All of us mentors were in the front row, watching the interviews.

The District 1 girl was a little ditzy. The District 1 boy was easygoing (or so he hoped, I think). Both of District 2 was fierce and tough, and both of District 3 were smart. My tribute boy was strong and loyal, and my tribute girl was humble and kind. The District 5 boy was threatening and rough.

It was Anxol's turn for her interview. I try not to feel intrigued - she's just another tribute that's going to die anyways - but there seems to be so much mystery around her.

"She's lovely and bright, and best of all, she can put up a fight!" Caesar laughs at himself. "Please welcome Anxol Enkeli!"

Caesar's face was doubtful when pronouncing her name. I don't think anybody here knows how to say her name properly.

The screens are filled with her smiling face, clips from the Parade. Anxol steps out from behind the sides, her feet light as if she was walking on a cloud.

Everybody let out a gasp. I could see why.

She was wearing a white dress, but that was not enough to describe it.

The top of her dress was in a simple cut with a ribbon tied around the area of her ribs. The bottom of the dress was actually many, many layers of unevenly cut white, slightly transparent material. There were not too many layers to look like she was drowning in it, but there were enough layers for it to fan out perfectly.

Her hair was the natural white-blonde shade, slightly curled. There was what looked like wings made from the same gauzy material as the bottom of her dress behind her.

She looked – there was no other word to describe it – angelic.

When she walked towards Caesar, everything fell quiet with a hush.

I noticed that her designers, thankfully, kept her makeup to a minimum. The makeup made her eyes look larger and brighter than usual.

I hate Captiol women who had too much makeup tattooed on their faces.

She sat down on the seat next to Caesar, smiling.

"You look very nice." Caesar stated, smiling back at her.

"Thank you, Caesar." She said delicately. "I was lucky enough to have a very amazing and talented designer."

She looks straight at her designer, and everybody else does, too. Her designer beams with happiness.

This interview, unlike the others, I actually pay attention.

"The big question that everybody is wondering about you," Caesar pauses dramatically, "is how do we pronounce your name?"

The audience laughs.

Anxol smiles brightly, seeming to light up the whole room.

"An-soul." She says slowly and clearly.

Caesar tries to say it, but he can't with his Captiol accent.

Anxol laughs, a musical laugh that's filled with happiness. Something's a bit off about it, though. Perhaps it's a gleam in her eye or a twitch in her hand, but I can tell that she is not truly happy.

"It's okay if you can't say my name." She smiles.

"Let's call you…" Caesar looks over at Anxol. "…Angel."

Anxol laughs again. "Alright. Thank you, Caesar."

The interview goes brilliant. Caesar asks her what she thinks about her high training score, and she answers with 'I am very surprised and happy that I did good.'

Caesar asks her if she has any siblings. Her face is troubled for a split second before answering.

"I have a little sister. She's five years old. She's bubbly and enthusiastic and bright and..." She trails off, hesitant.

I imagine a little girl, whose hair is as white as hers and eyes just as light. I imagine her watching at home, holding her parent's hands and crying as she sees her older sister tainted in blood.

Caesar takes her hand and holds it.

"I'm afraid that this may be hard on you, but I understand that you have - had - another sibling?" Caesar asks kindly.

My breath catches.

"I have.. I _had _a twin brother. His named was Enkol. He - he was in last year's Games." She says softly, though everyone can hear her clearly.

I sneak a quick look around me. The victor's expressions are stony, unreadable. The Capitol citizens all have their eyes softened with sympathy and mouths open with _tsk_ing croons for this poor girl.

They find it terribly dramatic - this desperate tale of twins who were separated too soon, of one dying and one soon following. They find it a lovely show, something to add a little flair to this year's Games.

_Will the poor girl win for her brother?_

I find her situation horrible and I find the Capitol citizens sickening. They wouldn't know _anything _about watching the ones you love dying right in front of you.

"I offer you my most sincere condolences." Caesar pats her hand affectionately.

"It - he - I'm sure he is happy now. Thank you, Caesar. " Anxol smiles sadly, eyes deepened with sorrow that I wished I could take away.

"I am sure he is very proud of you. And may you return home to you little sister." Caesar smiles.

"Thank you."

"Panem's own Angel, everybody!" Caesar finishes with one last sweeping gesture towards Anxol. She smiles, and walks off, though she looks like she's trying to get out of there as soon as possible.

The interview is without a doubt, the most memorable. She is sweet and charming. She answers each question thoughtfully and she's smiling and laughing the whole time. Her bright smile alone outshines the other tributes.

But it's her story that wins over most of the Capitol. Such a poor little thing, her other half ripped away from her right before her eyes. Oh, the poor, brave girl, how she can still smile and laugh even though she has a dead brother and a baby sister back at home. Oh, how she must be crumbling on the inside but holds it together because she is a poor, courageous girl.

How dramatic it all seems for the Capitol.

How despicable they are.

How I hated them.

But no matter what the Capitol thinks, she has won over many sponsors, no doubt.

As we clear out of the stadium, beside me, Haymitch smiles faintly.

I don't see how anyone can smile now.

There is no reason to. There has never been a reason to.

* * *

What did you think?

Any questions? Feedback? Comments? As per usual, feel free to share your opinion/thoughts so I can improve in the next chapters.

Thanks again!


	10. Own World

Hey there!

Thanks for clicking & reading!

Hope you enjoy the chapter (:

**Disclaimer: The wonderful Suzanne Collins owns the amazing creation of the Hunger Games Trilogy.**

* * *

I think I have forgotten how to breathe properly.

My breaths are coming out uneven, sharp and rough.

I have hugged Fesiena, Lycel, Veriah, and Noima good-bye already.

They all whisper the same thing to me.

_Good luck._

I pay no attention to Vinster or Shaye. On the hovercraft to the arena, they stick the tracker in my arm.

I hug Marliese last. She is the one who is standing next to me before I step into the cylinder that could take me to my death.

She is gripping my hand tightly.

She pulls me in for one last hug, and I am covered in swathes of clothing, the scent of her perfume radiating from all around me.

She smells like cinnamon and jasmine.

"Where is your token?" She asks me, straightening the collar of my jumpsuit.

"I don't have one." I said absentmindedly.

Marliese looks positively appalled, her mouth in a perfect _O._

"Here, take this." She says, quickly prying off the ring on her finger.

"Oh, no, I couldn't – " I start as she jams the ring on my finger. My finger cracks, but she doesn't notice it.

"Yes you can!" Marliese chirps happily. "The Gamemakers already checked it. I had a feeling you didn't have a token."

"I – "I start to say, but I stop.

Instead, I say, "Thank you."

And I mean it.

I admire the ring. It wasn't some gaudy Captiol ring that I've seen Marliese wear before. It was a thin, simple silver ring, which was actually several lightning bolts connected to each other.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Marliese smiles at me. "I got it when they told me I was to be escorting District 5. I thought you'd like it."

"Thank you, Marliese." I said softly, again.

The voice in the speakers tells us it's time for the tributes to step into the cylinder.

I take one scared, nervous step into the cylinder.

The glass panels close around me. I see Marliese, and though she is smiling, I can see the sadness in her eyes.

I give her one last small, frightened smile before the cylinder starts rising.

I will myself not to shake as I descend higher and higher, farther and farther away from Marliese and from safety.

Marliese disappears from sight.

A new landscape appears.

My heart is thumping loudly enough for everybody to hear, but my analytical brain is working on overdrive.

I use the last precious seconds to take everything in.

All twenty-four of us are evenly spaced around the Cornucopia. I can see the large backpacks and tent kits in the heart of the Cornucopia, and worthless things far away from them.

I eye the gleaming swords and knives.

The path to the Cornucopia is grassy, though slightly dewy. It will be slippery.

I eye the tributes around me. Shaye, who is the closest to me, is eying the large, deadly weapons in the heart of the Cornucopia.

Taking a quick scan around at the tributes, I can easily tell who will run away and who will run to the Cornucopia.

I am standing as still as I can, eyes closed, letting everything wash over me.

The voice counts down, but I am not paying attention.

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

Cannons ring to signal the start of the 69th Hunger Games.

Everybody is running. Running to the Cornucopia or running away.

But I am standing still.

* * *

What's happening? You'll have to wait 'till tomorrow to figure out!

Sorry about the annoyingly short chapter. I've been on a few side one-shots, which have thankfully just been uploaded. They've been on my mind for a bit, and I've been working on them for the past few days. (And in case you're wondering, yes, they are about the Hunger Games. I don't think I could ever write about anything else.)

So now that those are finished, hopefully the chapters will get longer.

Anyways, so what did you think?

Comments? Feedback? Questions? Reviews are always appreciated.

Thanks again! Next chapters up tomorrow!


	11. Weak

Hello everybody!

It's the start of the Games - insert dramatic music here.

Of course, this means a lot of action, and I am terrible at action-writing. So I apologize beforehand for the next few chapters because seriously - you'll see why.

But hopefully you'll still stick around and find some pity in your heart to continue reading!

Haha, well, enjoy the chapter!

Don't forget - if you have any questions, comments, or feedback, feel free to leave a review.

Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

It is chaos.

I hear shouts and screams, but I block them out.

I am in my own world.

Enkol used to make fun of me because of this. He was constantly saying to live in reality whereas I lived in my own world.

"_You're missing out, An."_ He used to say. "_One day, you'll open your eyes and see that everything has changed."_

I open my eyes and see that Enkol is right. Everything has changed.

But I am not missing out.

I see tributes on the floor, slipping and sliding, trying to stand up. Hardly the bloodbath the Capitol intended.

It's the dew. Something about it must be modified to act like ice, making tributes slip and slide across the arena.

I walk – no, _stomp _– to the Cornucopia, making sure each step I took was deep and rooted to the ground, ensuring that I didn't fall. The other tributes, seeing me, tried mimicking my stance.

I made my way slowly to the Cornucopia.

I am the first to reach the heart of the Cornucopia, but by then, there are tributes all around me. I duck and jump, but I keep steady.

_Stay still Anxol. Steady there. Breathe in, breathe out. Concentrate. Focus. Focus._

The bloodbath was starting, some of the heavier tributes stomping over the smaller tributes who were still scrambling, trying to get up.

_Cowards, _I think, _attacking the opponent when they are down._

It is utter mayhem again, cannons ringing, blood spilling, people screaming.

_Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, Anxol, focus._

I ignore the blood, ignore the cries, and try not to notice that there are children dying all around me.

I grab a few knives and a backpack, and make my way away from the Cornucopia, silently screaming in triumph for getting supplies safely.

I spoke too soon.

I hear a slight _whoosh _behind me and I quickly duck. When I look up again, I see a spear lodged in the Cornucopia where my head should've been.

I quickly spin around and see none other than Shaye behind me.

I try and duck, but I'm too late – his foot connected to my nose and I fly to the floor.

As soon as I'm on the floor, he is raising his spear.

"Shaye, come on! We have to go now!" I hear a deep, rumbling voice call out, making him stop.

I can't identify the voice, can't tell who it is. But Shaye has obviously somehow made an ally - it shouldn't have been too hard for Vincster to find someone.

"Let me take care of this one first." Shaye calls back in reply, then turning back to me.

I lay there, motionless, staring at Shaye. It's not like I could move anyways – his foot was on both of my arms. I squirm and move, but his foot was pressing down painfully on my hands.

Marliese is right, though. He is sloppy. Slowly, but surely, one hand was escaping.

Blood was gushing out of my nose, down past my mouth, staining my jumpsuit. I barely felt the pain.

All I felt was the very real, very terrifying feeling of knowing that I was about to die.

Shaye's spear comes down, straight to my heart.

I close my eyes.

_I'm sorry, Enkol. _I thought miserably.

But something inside of me screams, _Fight! Fight, you idiot! _

Then, as if someone was possessing me, I grab the fallen backpack next to me with one of the arms that I had freed, and hold it over my heart before the spear could plunge through me.

I hear a loud _clang, _indicating that the spear hit something in the backpack – something metal – and that I was still alive.

Seizing the moment of distraction, I hit the foot pinning my other hand down with the backpack, and the foot quickly releases me.

I leap up and give Shaye a well-placed kick to the head, and grab the backpack and run out of there, not caring to look back to see how my district partner fares.

I could have killed him right there. While he was down; grabbed something and stabbed him straight in the heart.

But no, that's not who I am. I don't kill. I run.

I cursed myself inwardly for being such a _fool, _for being such a _weakling._

How could I have almost let myself die like that?

How could I just lay down and accept death, ready to leave everything I have behind?

I sprint as fast I can, in any direction, as if trying to run away from my incredibly stupid mistake.

I was acting like the friendly, naïve little girl that I was back at District 5.

The girl who would let people walk over her, who was willing to do anything to make other people happy.

_This is the Hunger Games,_ I think fiercely. _You musn't be that selfless girl who cared about everybody but herself._

I pant and my run slows to a halt.

I need to make a plan. I need to know what to do.

I found myself in some sort of overgrown forest, looking like it was a million years old.

I didn't like it here. Perhaps some thought it was a good place to stay – it was hidden and had plenty of resources – but I didn't.

I wouldn't be able to tell if there was anybody lurking in the trees. And from all I could see, there was nothing but leaves and trunks – barely edible.

I walked over to the tallest tree I could find and quickly climb up the best I could.

_Step by step, Anxol. One thing at a time. You can't do everything at once._

When I reached as tall as I could, I look around. I see the Cornucopia, and I think maybe a few tributes are still there – I think the Careers. One half of the arena is the thick, dark forest I was in – if I squint hard enough, I was able to see movement in the trees – tributes or animals?

I see the slight glint of light in the distance – a lake. I make a mental note in my head roughly about where the lake was for future use.

In the distance, I see a tall, looming mountain.

Before I could assess any more, the tree I was in started swaying. It was swaying precariously, back and forth, back and forth. I could hear the branches straining.

Slowly, steadily, I start making my way down.

But the branches keep swaying dangerously, threatening to throw me off.

I was too high up, too heavy for the branches to support me for much longer.

Quickly, I shrug off my backpack and let it drop, letting go of some weight.

But yet the tree still sways. I can hear the branches starting to snap, breaking off.

Slowly still, I make my way down.

The branch I am holding breaks.

I fall.


	12. Conscience

Hello once again!

Last chapter for today - but don't worry, as usual, there will be more tomorrow.

There's a viewpoint change in this chapter - I apologize if that doesn't quite float your boat, but I tend to switch views once in a while. So... yeah. Just a fair warning.

If you have any questions, comments, or feedback, feel free to leave a message or a review!

And as usual, everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I am falling, the sky getting farther and farther away.

I'm falling through branches, crashing down floors and floors of tree. I have climbed high, higher than I thought I did. I'm falling, falling endlessly until I land with a _splat _on the hard, unforgiving floor.

But I am no longer the helpless Anxol I was.

Instead of praying for the end to be quick and painless, I am reaching out grabbing for something, anything, to hold on to.

I see the backpack I threw down. Instead of it landing on the forest floor like I thought it did, it was hanging on by one of its straps to a branch.

I grab on to the backpack and hold on for dear life.

I can see the branch straining from the extra weight.

I try to find a footing, a branch, but it seems like there is nothing below me but air and the hard, unforgiving forest floor.

So instead, I nudge slowly to my right, still holding on to the backpack.

Slowly and carefully, the backpack and I are all the way to the trunk of the tree. I quickly wrap my legs around the trunk and break the branch holding the backpack. I slip my arms inside the straps and climb back down the tree.

At the last few feet, I leap down, back on the cold, hard ground.

I am safe.

For now.

After landing on the ground, I quickly open the backpack that has already saved my life twice today.

Inside was a metal water canister with a dent in it from where Shaye stabbed it.

I kissed the canister – for saving my life and for giving me something to carry water.

There were also two apples and a loaf of bread – both of which were squished and bruised after the fall.

And of course, there were the knives that I dumped in after running away from the Cornucopia.

I think most tributes would have been disappointed to get so little, but I am thankful to just be alive today.

I turn up to the sky and smile, thanking the heavens for blessing me with another day.

Then I started patching myself up. After falling through the tree, I now suffered a lot of scrapes and a few deep cuts. My jumpsuit was stained with blood and my hair was undone from its high ponytail and is a mess of twigs and leaves.

And of course, my nose is bruised, or broken after my little encounter with Shaye.

After pulling out all the twigs and leaves from my hair and arms, I gathered up my knives.

I only managed to carry three knives. One I kept in my backpack, one I kept in my boot, and the last I kept in my hand.

_Where to go now? _I wondered.

I didn't like it here. I couldn't see everything, couldn't see if there were any tributes coming near.

I had to get out.

_I guess I'll go to the lake then, _I decided.

And with that, I set off in the direction of the lake unsure, unthinking, unstrung, but also unharmed.

I am normally quite indecisive.

Enkol has always come first, so I always followed him.

Others asked me, "Why do you follow your twin so much? You're like his shadow!"  
But I didn't mind. Enkol was my guide, my protector. He knew what to do and I had no problem following any of his orders.

But despite him being the loud, boisterous Enkol, and me being the quiet, thoughtful Anxol, we got along very well. It was a twin connection – he knew what I was thinking and I knew what he was feeling.

So when he left, I felt like he stranded me. I didn't know what to do. All my life he had been leading me, and I had happily followed. I never thought about what would happen if he was not there to lead me anymore.

That's how I felt right now. Stranded. Deserted.

I didn't know what to do. I was just randomly deciding, randomly finding something that will lead me somewhere.

And I was going there without Enkol.

I walked for hours, until it got too dark anymore. I didn't dare to climb up another tree, in fear that this time it might actually take my life.

_Silly Anxol. Now you're even afraid of _trees.

The trees were getting less clustered, a little less thick. I was nearing the mountain.

By the time the Capitol anthem had played, I had already eaten half of one apple – barely enough to get through the next day.

I see the faces of the dead tributes in the sky, and I winced, trying not to remember that how just a few hours ago, these people were living and breathing just like I was.

I counted the faces. Thirteen were already dead; more than half.

All of the Careers were still alive – and Shaye, of course. I wondered where they were.

Knowing the brutality of the Careers, I knew that they would be bloodthirsty soon. They will start hunting.

And once they hunt for tributes, I don't stand a chance.

I decide that the Careers would most likely start hunting tomorrow morning, after having a nice large breakfast and a nice long sleep in their comfortable tents.

I go to sleep. No use in worrying about tomorrow.

I'm just thankful for today.

The next morning, I am thankfully, still alive.

I had a rough night's sleep, sleeping under the shade of a large tree. The ground was cold and hard, and I kept on waking up in the middle of the night.

In the morning, I ate another quarter of an apple. My stomache reminds me that this is not enough.

Groaning quietly, I continue walking.

I promised myself that I would win. I knew that this would not be easy. Every step I take, I fear that there is a rustle of a tribute, or a muttation behind me, or in front of me, on above me. With every breath I take, I wonder how much there will be left for me before another tribute strangles me. Or pierces my throat with a sword. Or slashes me open with a knife.

Maybe there's a landmine on the next step. Or maybe a hand will reach out from that trunk to grab me. What if there's some sort of crazy beetle muttation that'll suck all my blood out when I step on it? What if I'm stepping on it now?

It takes everything I am to breathe normally and walk on.

I continue walking, hoping that I was close to the lake.

Around midday, I finally reach the lake.

Parched, I walk over the crystal clear waters, where, thankfully, no one was found.

I almost dunk my head into the lake and drink, but I resist the temptation to. I remembered how many tributes have died in past Games for their impatience.

I must wait and boil the water.

An agonizing thirty minutes later, the water was boiled and ready to be drunk.

I drink the whole thing, chugging it down in seconds.

When I was finished, I started boiling more to put in my canister.

Revitalized and feeling fresh, I felt much better.

I was about to decide on where to go next, a task that would most definitely take a long time, when I heard a commotion in the forest behind me.

My first instinct is to run. Run away from the tribute, or animal that could be there.

But when I hear muffled screams, I draw nearer.

The screams are coming from a girl, high pitched and panicked.

She sounds worried, scared to death, and on the verge of hysteria.

_Walk on, Anxol. She's nothing to you. This is the Hunger Games, _one part of me says.

But the part of me that is the good-girl Anxol that I am known for says, _She is in pain. What if it was you in that situation? Maybe you can help._

The good girl wins for once, and I walk carefully, treading silently towards the source of the screaming.

I see the pair from District 2, and the girl from District 4. She is the one that is screaming.

The boy is holding her down and the girl is holding her knife up high, ready to kill.

I am about to chicken out, run away, when something I notice catches my eyes.

And then I know I have to help.

Finnick's POV

They turned against her.

The Careers turned against my tribute girl.

While she is sleeping they say that she is worthless. She can't throw a knife, can't walk too far, can't do anything, and eats all of the supplies.

Of course, this is not true. She barely eats at all, walks as much as they do, and is perfectly capable of throwing a knife.

But they turn against her anyways. Simply because she is pregnant.

This is what the Capitol wants. This is what the Capitol has expected.

The tributes from 2 lead her away from the rest of them, eager to do their dirty work.

When she realizes what they are going to do, she screams. She's screaming so loudly that all of Panem can hear her.

She's afraid. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want her baby to die.

_I _don't want her to die.

Things are looking bad for her when the boy from 2 is pinning her down and his partner is raising the knife.

I am preparing myself for the guts and gore, for the cannon to ring, when something flies out of the trees.

A cannon rings.

But it's not my tribute girl's cannon.

It's the boy from 2.

A knife is lodged to his chest, straight at his heart.

The girl from 2 is furious, screaming for whoever it is to come out, blinded by her rage.

In her fury, she doesn't notice a figure creeping up behind her. My tribute girl does though, and her eyes widen in shock.

The District 2 girl, noticing my tribute girl's stare, turns around just in time to avoid Anxol's knife.

The girl from 2 starts yelling out obscenities, while throwing punches and stabs.

But Anxol is concentrated – dodging, ducking – but never actually swinging.

She has the same look as when she was called for the Reapings – detached and disconnected, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was doing.

I was surprised, too. My heart thumped when her district partner tried killing her the other day, and when she fell through the tree.

Haymitch, who was beside me, comments gruffly, "I can see why she got a nine."

It was true. Quick and agile, she dodged every blow but did not kill, though there were many chances for her to. And by the look on her face, she knew that she is missing all of her chances, but she does not kill anyways.

My tribute girl is trying to escape, but she is too mesmerized by Anxol to get too far.

Finally, Anxol seizes the upper hand, kicking one foot up high, the bottom of her shoe crushing the District 2 girl's throat. The girl from 2's knife is knocked away, far from her reach, and she is trapped.

Anxol points the knife to her heart.

"Go ahead. Do it." The girl rasps out. "I already know you can't."

Anxol doesn't reply, only sets her mouth in a grim line and presses her foot down a little harder on the girl's throat.

"You're a coward." The girl spits out. "Shaye told me himself."

Anxol's hands are shaking. She's hesitating.

The girl from 2 is buying time, taunting Anxol, trying to get her to take the coward's path and surrender. The girl's eyes are taunting and mocking, like she already knows Anxol will let her go.

"In fact, your whole district is cowardly. A disgrace." She sneers. "Your brother is a prime example."

Something flickers in Anxol's eyes – a cross between hate and fury. It lasts for only a second, but the raw emotion of it was strong enough to get her feelings across.

The girl, knowing she struck a nerve, opens her mouth to say more, but Anxol cuts her off.

"My brother," Anxol says quietly, but deadly, "is twice the person,"

Anxol quickly stabs the girl in the heart, catching her off guard.

"you ever will be." She finishes.

A cannon rings. Anxol puts down her foot and turns around, seeing my tribute girl still there.

My tribute girl is frantically trying to run away, but what Anxol does next surprises us all.

She drops the knife from her hand and extends her palm to her.

"Allies?" She smiles faintly, hand outstretched.


	13. A Hero's Adventure

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So, here's the next chapter (obviously).

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

I am not adventurous.

I like to stay at home, with everything I will ever need.

I like knowing I am safe. I like having a routine. I like knowing what will happen next.

Enkol was the one who loved adventures.

He used to tell me bedtime stories, tales of courageous knights and sly princesses, enchanted forests and magical kingdoms.

I liked listening to the stories. But I never wanted to live in them.

Fear of the unknown. That was what it was.

But when I stand there, my question hanging in the air and my hand outstretched, I am feeling braver.

I feel like the hero in Enkol's stories, the one who saves the day and helps others.

I just hope that she is willing to accept the rest of my help.

She looks at me with wide, terrified eyes.

For a second she just looks at my hand, and I'm afraid she'll say no.

But then she nods shakily and grasps my hand. I help her up.

"Let's get out of here. The Careers are going to suspect something." I say seriously.

She nods, with a little more confidence, and with that, we run.

I am a hero now. And I will go on an adventure, and go where it takes me.

**.**

We finally stop a good ten minutes later, after reaching the other side of the lake.

"What's your name?" I wheeze out.

"Josephine." She gasps out. "What about you?"  
"Anxol." I pant.

I notice her confused face.

"Ann-soul." I say slowly. "But I guess you can call me An if you want to."

"Why?" She asks, her breath regained. "I'm useless. I can't do anything."  
"I'll explain later." I said hurriedly. Now was not the time. We were in wide open space, not even the smallest things to hide us.

We're quiet for a moment.

"Where are we going?" She asks finally.

I'm silent for a while. I look around. My gaze finally lands on the ring on my finger, the one Marliese gave me as a token.

I know what I'm going to do.

"To the top of the mountain." I answer, my gaze climbing up the tall mountain.

**.**

It's not impossible to climb up to the top of the mountain.

There is a small, winding path that goes around the mountain. I didn't notice it before.

In some areas, the path leads to a wide, flat platform. In some areas, there are caves.

There are no railings. No fences. You slip, or fall, you're doomed.

The mountain is high, and the path is a little steep.

We stand at the base of the mountain, staring up.

"You can back out now if you want." I offer, seeing the look on Josephine's face.

She takes a deep breath. "No – I'm going to do this."

Our eyes meet. I see the steely determination in her eyes.

I nod, and we start climbing.

**.**

"So why'd you save me?" Josephine asks seven hours later.

We were making slow progress, the base of the mountain so wide it takes us three hours just to circle it once.

We make camp at a small platform, since it was getting too dark to try and walk on the precarious path anymore. It's wide, but I'm still afraid of falling over the edge.

"It was the right thing to do." I reply.

"Thanks." She says after a moment's silence. "But you do know that –"

"Yeah," I cut her off. "I know."

We're silent for a few more minutes.

"I always knew you were a good person." Josephine says quietly. "Ever since I heard you spared Shaye at the Cornucopia."

I only nod absentmindedly.

"Do you regret anything?" I ask, changing the subject. I look at her stomache, and she knows what I mean.

"No. No, I don't." She says defiantly.

"But I thought I'd be safe, you know? Being eighteen. One more Reaping and I'd be free of this." She says wistfully.

"The odds were just not in our favour." I smile ruefully.

She laughs. "You're right. They weren't."

I smile sadly back at her.

She pats her belly and rubs it a few times. "I just wish it didn't have to happen now."  
"I wish it didn't happen at all." I say solemnly.

The Capitol anthem plays. We see both tributes from District 2 in the sky, along with the girl from District 3.

Three dead. Eight left.

I don't cry, like how I used to back at home. I don't even wince or flinch as I see their faces in the sky, knowing that I killed two of them.

I feel…._numb._

It felt terrible to throw that knife, and to plunge it deep into a place that I knew would stop everything. But after that, I feel almost nothing.

I've killed two human beings. Both who were not too much older than me.

But I still feel nothing.

I guess I've changed. I know I must kill to win, must fight for what is right.

It doesn't mean I like killing people.

I guess it just means I've learned to…accept it.

Josephine and I sit in silence, eating our meagre meal. We each only get one gulp of water from my canister, and half of the last apple.

While Josephine was leaving the Career's camp, she managed to steal a few packets of beef jerky and hide it in her pocket.

They are not too big, and she didn't have enough room to hold much, but it's better than nothing. We put everything we have in the worn backpack I had, and get ready for tomorrow.

"I'll take first watch." I volunteer.

Josephine nods and crawls over to the spot farthest away from the ledge.

She has a knife in her hands, so I guess she doesn't fully trust me yet.

But as I turn away from her to watch the path, I hear her small voice.

"Good night, Anxol."

I smile to myself.

"Good night, Josephine."

* * *

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Thanks for reading!


	14. Naming Names

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**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

The next morning, we set out on the path as soon as the sun rises.

I walk in front of Josephine, in case anything attacks us that lives in the mountain. Also, so I can warn her about any bumpy paths, slippery spots, or rocks in the way.

Josephine trails behind me, checking for any tributes that could be following us.

We're starting to get so far off the ground that we're both sure none of the tributes could see us.

We walk slowly and carefully, manoeuvring around rocks and steadily going across icy paths.

We rise higher and higher, the mountain getting thinner, and colder.

We both carry something in our hands. I hold a knife in my hand, ready to attack, and carry the backpack. Josephine is holding the spear that the boy from 2 left behind, using it as a walking stick.

It's a slow, tedious progress. We take small breaks and continue on at our turtle pace.

I know that I can go twice as fast without Josephine. But I don't abandon her. I match her slower pace and help her around the obstacles, holding her hands a few times for support.

That night, we stay in another, wider platform. It's hard and cold, but it's wider than the other platform.

The Capitol anthem plays. One face appears in the sky, the boy from six.

Seven left.

The Careers are hunting.

Josephine and I eat our small meal, both of us only getting a small piece of the loaf of bread I got. Our supplies were getting dangerously low.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" I ask her, as we lay down lazily.

"No idea. It's too early to tell." She answers, rubbing her belly. I notice she does that a lot.

"What would you name her if she was a girl?" I asked her, turning towards her.

"I don't know. I was thinking maybe Marina. Or Sasha." She says thoughtfully. "I still haven't decided yet."

"What about Wynnie? Or Pascelle?" I suggest, trying to be friendly. "Lilly? Scillia?"

Josephine scrunches up her nose and shakes her head.

"Nu-uh. I like Marina better."

"What about Gillian?" I nudged her softly. We were both smiling now, starting to become more like friends and less like allies.

Josephine laughs.

"Maybe for a middle name." She turns and grins at me.

I grin back.

"What about if he was a boy? What would you name him then?"

"Without a doubt," Josephine raises both hands and grins. "Finnick Odair."

I burst out laughing and cover my mouth immediately, afraid that my laughter would carry through the wind. But I can't contain my laughter.

"Finnick Odair?" I giggle. "You're joking, right?"  
"Nope. No jokes here." Josephine sounds serious, but the laughter in her eyes betrays her. "I would seriously name my baby Finnick Odair."

"You couldn't think of anything better?" I snort with laughter. "Absolutely nothing better than Finnick Odair?"

"Nothing is better than Finnick Odair, An." Josephine chuckles. "That's the way we do it in Four."

We giggle and laugh some more, until a silver parachute comes down.

"Look!" I point, my laughter halted.

Josephine follows my finger and squeals excitedly.

"A parachute! Catch it, catch it, catch it!" She waves her hands around crazily.

I reach and catch the parachute before it floats down the mountain. Behind me, Josephine cheers quietly.

I rush back to the back of the platform to where Josephine was sitting, beaming crazily.

"Who's it from? Who's it for? What is it?" Josephine pelts me with questions.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" I shriek quietly, handing her the box.

I see the large number '4' on the box, and Josephine sees it too.

Her beam gets brighter, if possible.

She shakily opens the box, and when she does, she gasps in surprise.

"What is it?" I lean over to look at the contents.

I see a single, cooked fish.

Josephine squeaks with happiness and pulls me into a hug. In the spur of the moment, I hug her back.

I could feel a slight bump in her stomache. It felt nice to be hugging somebody.

"Thank you, Finnick!" We both whisper-shout to the sky.

"Should we eat it tonight?" Josephine asks me.

I look at the steaming fish.

"I think we should eat a little bit tonight. And then we'll save the rest for tomorrow." I explain.

Josephine looks down at the fish hungrily, but she lets me divide the pieces.

I give her a large chunk and give myself a small bite. It is her sponser gift, anyways.

We carefully wrap the fish with the brown paper at the bottom of the box and tie it up, and put it in my backpack for tomorrow.

Then we both eat the fish, its warmness welcome in the cold mountain.

"You know what, Josephine?" I sigh contently as we eat the fish. "The name Finnick Odair isn't so bad after all."


	15. Too Late

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And secondly, if you have any questions, comments, or feedback about any of the chapters (of for the chapters to come), please feel free to leave a review or a message!

Thirdly, everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

The next day, we walk up the path, happy and energized.

Even after walking for hours and hours with only five minute breaks, we're both content.

We constantly talk to each other, mindless girl chatter, usually accompanied by stifled laughter.

We're now around three-quarters up the mountain. The mountain is getting thinner and thinner, but more and more dangerous.

There is ice patches everywhere, and it takes us ten minutes to get past a one-meter long ice patch. It's also freezing cold up here, the winds harsh and unforgiving.

We often find ourselves stopping because of the wind, Josephine holding onto her spear tight, which was buried deep in the ground. I would stab my knives into the mountain and hold on to them, in fear of being blown away by the cold, bitter wind.

It was sunset when it happened.

"Almost time to stop!" I say cheerfully to Josephine. The fish's warm effects on us were wearing off, and we were both looking forward to stopping and taking a break.

"Only a few minutes left!" Josephine chirps happily.

There was a cave ahead of us, just in view. That would be our stop for tonight.

But as we reach the cave, a figure emerges from the depths of the cave.

We both freeze. It has been so carefree, so trouble-free for the past two days that we almost forgot there were hungry animals and tributes everywhere.

We hold out our weapons defensively, and a mountain ram appeared from the shadows.

Except it was no ordinary ram.

It was clearly a Capitol mutation. Its eyes were too yellow, and the horns were made up of a long, malicious blade that ended in a dangerous point.

We were trapped. The ram has seen us. We could not turn back or go forward.

We could only fight.

"On the count of three," I mutter to Josephine. "We duck and move out of the way."

Josephine nods shakily. She was pale, scared.

The ram paws its feet.

"One." I murmur.

The ram is looking at us, a death glare in its eyes. The blades that replace its horns are gleaming in the sunset light.

"Two." I whisper.

The ram growls – a puff of cold air coming out of its nose.

"Three!" I shout. The ram moves, charging.

I duck and roll out of the way. When I look up again, I almost scream in terror.

Josephine. Her chest punctured by one of the ram's horn-blades. She didn't move in time.

I don't think. I just _do._

Without a second's hesitation, I run towards the ram and stab it, deep into its body. I plunged it deeper and deeper until I could see the point reaching the other side.

The ram drops dead, and Josephine goes down with it.

Tears forming in my eyes, I rush over to Josephine and gently pry her off her the horn.

Blood is pooling from her chest, and I press my hand to the wound, trying to staunch it.

"Sorry." She croaks out.

I shake my head, tears coming down now.

She's pale, so, so pale.

Her blood is pouring into my hands, red and sticky, but I try my best to ignore it.

"Promise…me…" She gasps,"…that…you'll…win?"

I nod fiercely, and with I hold one hand tightly.

"For…me…and…baby…Finn?" Josephine manages a weak smile.

I burst out into a laugh-sob, clutching her hand tightly.

"I promise." I smile feebly as the tears fall down my face.

She grasps my hand weakly, until she could hold on no more.

With one last convulsing shudder, she closes her eyes.

The cannon rings.

She's limp.

And I am all alone in this cold, bitter mountain.


	16. Blame the Game

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Well, not to delay you any further - here's the chapter!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

****I've never had much friends.

Enkol was the outgoing twin. I was friendly towards other peers, but I never was close enough to them to call them 'friends.'

Josephine was my first friend.

It was like how I pictured having a friend – things were always funny, talking for hours, helping each other when help was needed.

Except I never imagined making my first friend in the Hunger Games.

And I definitely didn't imagine her dying right in front of me.

After her cannon rings, I still hold her hand. My other hand is gently moving the hair out of her face, trying my best not to get any blood on it.

My tears are falling, but I don't make a noise. I only continue holding her hand until the hovercraft comes.

Her body is picked up, and the hovercraft leaves.

I am alone, stranded, in this cold mountain with only one way to go.

I crawl towards the dead ram, angry at it for killing my ally, my companion, my friend.

But then I change my mind. I am not angry at the ram.

I am angry at the _Captiol._

I knew, from the moment I saw her in the forest, that the Capitol was going to make sure she was going to die.

She was pregnant. She was a bad example. They didn't want her in Panem.

It was like Enkol. I knew he was supposed to win. I knew he could've won.

But he didn't. The Capitol killed him. Why, I still don't know.

The lightening bolt was from the Capitol. The ram was made in the Capitol.

They both took away somebody important to me.

The ram, I knew that it was not its fault. It was programmed to kill.

I dragged the ram's corpse into the cave, hoping that there was no more rams inside. Thankfully, there weren't.

I was tired. I lie down next to the ram, its woolly coat keeping me warm.

I try to sleep, but the cave seems so empty without Josephine in it.

I cry softly, wondering what would've happened if the ram had not been here. We would've eaten the rest of the fish. We would've thought of more baby names, maybe even talked about our families.

I would never know now.

The tears are running down my face as the Capitol anthem plays and her face appears in the sky.

I close my eyes and try to go to sleep, but the tears keep on falling.

**.**

I wish Josephine won.

I knew it was wishful thinking, and that it was too late now, but I was always a dreamer.

I imagined her in Four, with a beautiful baby boy named Finnick Odair Jr. I laughed bitterly to myself, silently chastising myself for dreaming of impossible things again.

Josephine was dead.

Her unborn baby was dead, too.

I promised her I would win though.

I promised her that I would win for her and for her unborn baby.

I tell myself that I will succeed.

**.**

The morning after Josephine's death, I am ready to start out again.

I slice as many pieces of meat as my backpack can carry, and I cut off the ram's wool; fashioning myself an odd warm coat.

I walk the path again, very aware of the heavy silence in the air.

I take in big gulps of the cold air, trying not to burst out in tears at the thought of Josephine's lifeless body and short, ended life.

I wipe my face roughly, sure that there were tearstains on my face and eyes red.

I make fast progress, easily going over the ice patches and rocks. For some strange reason, I feel like I've done this before.

The silence swallows me up, and I find myself often thinking about giving.

_No, _I tell myself. _Giving up means dying. And you can't die now._

I try and think of Enkol's stubbornness, and Josephine's determination. I try and summon it to myself, willing it to give me the power to carry on.

A cannon in the distance wakes me up from my thoughts.

I squint towards the horizon, wondering who has died. I almost forgot there were other tributes after being up here in the solitary mountain.

I wonder if the Careers know I'm here.

A heavy rumble snaps my attention back to the mountain.

I blink a few times, and continue walking. The rumble was so sudden and short I almost thought I had imagined it.

But a second, large rumble stops me in my tracks.

It sounds like it's coming from deep inside the mountain, like the monster living inside was growling, like –

Like an avalanche.

I scramble back down the mountain, trying not to fall off.

The rumbling gets louder. I am forced to slow to a walk as the mountain starts shaking.

I stand as still as I can and force myself to breathe steadier as the mountain breaks out in a violent shudder.

This time, it does not stop.

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and try to regain control.

_Breathe in, breathe out, Anxol. One step at a time. Steady, now. Keep your balance. Take your time._

My breath comes out shakily, but I manage to pull myself together.

The snow hasn't come rushing down yet, I tell myself. You still have time.

I walk down steadily, the path steep and the mountain shaking violently. I teeter dangerously towards the ledge, but I tell myself to just keep on walking and ignore my thumping heart.

The snow finally comes.

It's small at first, only a small snowball that hits my boot. But it's followed by a bigger snowball, followed by a snow rock.

I already know what comes after that.

I take longer strides, trying to ignore the snow that's brushing against my feet, the shaking mountain that's throwing me off balance, the ledge that could lead me to my death.

_Breathe in, breathe out. You're in your own world now._

I imagine I'm only balancing on a beam that lines my street. An easy, thick beam that did not shake and was only two inches off the floor.

I am back at home, balancing on the beam. I am safe, and the steady ground is only inches away from me.

I walk, eyes closed. I can see my neighborhood in my mind, can almost smell the electricity in the air.

When I open my eyes again, I am at the entrance of the cave, with the dead ram in front of me.

The mountain is roaring now.

I quickly get into the farthest corner of the cave and pull the ram's corpse over me.

The next thing I know, the mountain is screaming, and snow is racing down the path I walked like a large worm, coming into the cave and enclosing me in.

All is black.

* * *

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	17. Decisions, Decisions

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Bit of a really short chapter, sorry about that. I promise the next one will be longer!

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**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games.**

* * *

****I always liked the cold.

When the days were cold and the air was crisp, I would run out to play.

Enkol would call me crazy.

He liked the warmth.

But I liked the cold.

But after being in the Hunger Games, I started to dislike the cold. I disliked the cold silence in the air as I walked on without Josephine. I disliked the cold, bitter winds the threatened to push me off the ledge.

Right now, I disliked the cold snow that closed me in.

The ram's dead corpse was on top of me, giving me a hint of warmth. Though it wasn't as warm as I would've liked it to be, it blocked out the worst of the snow that would've suffocated me.

I was pressed uncomfortably to the back of the cave, squeezed in between the wall and the ram, the entrance blocked and meters away.

Mustering all the strength I could possibly find, I pushed the ram towards the entrance and scuttled behind it.

The snow was cold, but not yet frozen. I had to be quick, before it turns into ice and freezes me in; a dark, cold tomb.

Knowing the Captiol, it would not be long before the snow turned into ice.

I pushed the ram again, as hard as I could. My muscles screamed in protest. I ignored them, and kept on pushing. The ram moved a few more inches, and I did too.

Push, move, push move. That was how it went for how long, I don't know. I pushed the ram with all of my might, hoping that the entrance was close.

I pull out my knives and scratch at the snow, hoping it makes a difference. But the snow is hardening quick, and the blade of all my knives break off the handle. I now can only resort to pushing the ram to the entrance. My muscles scream, but the ram's corpse moves inch by inch to my freedom.

The snow was getting a little thinner, the air a little easier to breathe in.

With one final heave, I push the ram's corpse.

Light breaks through, and a rush of cold air follows.

I should be relieved, overjoyed. But I am not.

My push has sent the ram off the edge the mountain. Its body falls and I hear a faraway _thump._

The path is gone.

**.**

I want to cry.

In front of me is nothing but the sky. I have climbed so high even the treetops have disappeared.

Behind me is nothing but the snow. It is cold and depressing.

The snow has covered the path, and I am still as trapped as I was back in the cave.

There is nowhere to go. Behind me is a slow, bitter death. In front of me is a quick, fearful fall.

I feel a tear slide down my cheek.

I feel hopeless. There is nothing around me but the whisper of my death.

At least I get to choose how I will die.

I swing my legs over the edge of the mountain.

The wind blows, and I swallow back the tears.

I thought I could win, thought I could succeed. I thought I could come back home, and thought I could carry out my plan.

I thought wrong.

* * *

THANKS for reading!

Well, I JUST realized that this is the second last chapter for this part!

Remember that this whole story is divided into four sub-stories, and the next chapter will be the last chapter of the first sub-story.

WOW that was fast!

Well, don't forget to review if you have any questions, comments, or feedback!

Thanks for reading again!


	18. Determination

Hello everybody!

As a reminder, this is the** LAST CHAPTER **of this sub-story, but not the last chapter of the series. This whole entire story is split up into four parts - four sub-stories, as you may call it. This chapter is only the last chapter of the **first **sub-story, so don't worry! It doesn't end here. The next sub-story will be posted tomorrow. Please check the bottom note for more details!

Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the wonder novel The Hunger Games.

* * *

Finnick's POV

She's crying.

Her clear tears are streaking her cheeks, her eyes moist and watery, the pale grey eyes sad and sorrowful.

Both of her legs are over the ledge. She has made her choice, her choice of how to die.

But she is holding on, not in fear of the height, but holding on to hope that there is a third choice.

All hope seems lost, until, by some amazing miracle, a third choice appears.

It comes in the form of a silver parachute.

It floats down towards her, and she catches it, looking at it in surprise.

She checks the box. There is a large '5' on it. She looks at it a few more times, slowly turning over the box in her hands.

She opens the box carefully.

Inside is a beautiful double bladed sword.

Its handle was jet black, and instead of having one blade protruding out of it, it had two.

She picks it up gently and holds it up, testing it out in her hands.

It looks expensive, but not as expensive as my trident, of course.

Haymitch and I throw puzzled looks at Vinster, the District 5 mentor.

"The Capitol people love her." He says, sighing. "Look at how many sponsers she has!"

It's true. For the past few days, Vinster's section has been _ping_ing nonstop – meaning a certain tribute has a sponser giving in money.

All this time, I thought it was for Shaye, the boy tribute. Apparently not.

Chaff, the District 11 mentor, lets out a low whistle.

"What made you pick _that_ though?" He asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

I lean in closer, awaiting Vinster's answer. I was curious, too.

"It was a special request by an anonymous citizen." Vinster answers stiffly. "Now can we _please _get back to the Games?"

I leant back on my seat and went back to watching the screen. The cameras were switched to the Careers, who just split up. It was nearing the end of the Games, with only the tributes from 1, my tribute boy, and both tributes from 5.

Both tributes from 1 stuck together, ready to protect to each other.

My tribute boy was hiding out in the forest, waiting the next day to hunt.

The male tribute from 5 was searching. He didn't say anything about it, but we all know what he is searching for – Anxol.

Probably to finish the dirty work he started at the Cornucopia.

Anxol was digging a hole in the snow above her, searching for something none of us knew.

We were all curious about Anxol's plan – even more so, wondering why she brought my pregnant tribute girl with her.

Anxol was a good person – that, all we mentors knew. It wasn't until the night of the first day they started climbing the mountain did we realized how good of a plan staying on the mountain was.

They had food resources. There was snow at the top – which could later be turned into a water source. It was far away from all the other tributes, and it was a great way to see if any other tributes were coming close.

But as they climbed farther and farther, we started getting doubtful. The second platform was the best place to stay – a hint of snow, high away from the tributes, but not high enough to not see them.

But yet, they left. They climbed higher and higher, the path getting more perilous and the food supplies getting lower.

Anxol had another plan in mind. But it was a plan that none of us could decipher.

I remembered the night Anxol and Josephine talked about naming Josephine's baby after me. I remember blushing, and Haymitch teasing me for hours on end, but it was something else.

Friendship. In the Hunger Games.

I was glad they had a moment of happiness, in a way that related to me, and I scrounged out any sponser money for Josephine and sent her that fish.

I liked the feeling that came afterwards. The feeling of happiness, knowing that I made them even happier.

But the best part was when they smiled to the sky – smiled to _me _– and said thank you.

It was just an extra bonus that Anxol seemed to like me a little more after that – even though we had never met.

**.**

I knew Josephine wouldn't win, and Anxol knew it too. But it didn't stop it from hurting when she did.

I just hope she's in a better place now. I wonder if a better place even exists. After all I've seen, all I've _done, _I don't think I'll be granted access to that place, if it exists.

_Seven dead now, _a nasty voice in the back of my head snarls.

All the tributes were sleeping now, gathering up more energy for what was to come.

She sleeps soundly, unguarded.

She looks small, angelic, curled up in the snow.

I find myself wishing for a fleeting second that she could always look like that.

**.**

The next morning, the arena is almost flooded.

I don't know what it is with the Capitol and flooding – maybe it's highly enjoyable to the Capitol citizens to watch the tributes try and swim?

The trees are unsteady. This is what my tribute boy learns when he tries climbing a tree to avoid the water.

Just like Anxol, the trees sway and he almost falls. He abandons the idea and races towards the mountain before it's too late.

Yesterday's avalanche erased the old path, but created a new path two meters above the old one. There is only one place to go to avoid the flood – the mountain.

The tributes from 1 are the first up the mountain. Shaye follows closely, only fifteen minutes behind them. My tribute boy is last, coming in an hour after Shaye.

Anxol, sweet and innocent, is still sleeping, oblivious.

They are all on the mountain now. It's what the Capitol wants.

And what the Capitol wants, the Capitol gets.

**.**

They are catching up. Anxol has dug up two meters, up to the new path, which has frozen into ice overnight. She is now trying to climb up the narrow tunnel she created, using only her sword.

The other tributes are catching up.

Anxol and Josephine had made slow progress, barely getting too far.

The other tributes are well-fed, well-rested, and much faster.

Anxol climbs up unsteadily, and claws her way up to the new path, pushing herself up.

She starts up the path again, still on her strange goal to reach the top of the mountain. She has a drive in her eyes, a steely determination as she walks. The wind blows her hair around and it is strong enough to push her off course, but she grits her teeth and walks on.

The top of the mountain is littered with obstacles – the wind, the ice, the snow – whereas the bottom, where the rest of the tributes are, seem to have none. Even as the other tributes climb higher and higher, they don't seem to run into any obstacles that Anxol or Josephine faced.

It starts raining. Rain normally means water, means nourishment. But to this year's tributes, it means danger.

The rain makes the floodwater rise higher and higher, the other tributes scrambling to climb faster. There are puddles everywhere, the path turning into a mudslide.

The rain makes the ice Anxol walks on even more slippery, and she slips more than once.

But no tributes fall.

The Capitol, impatient, sends the rain down harder and harder, until I'm sure none of them can see properly any more.

The girl from District 1, blinded by the rain, slips and falls, plummeting over the edge and landing in the murky waters below.

Her scream is short and her landing is rough.

Her partner yells out, but there's nothing he can do to save her. He moves on quickly, though the expression on his face shows that he would like to stay behind and think of a way to help her.

I look at my sponsor money. There's not enough money to buy anything for my tribute boy, not this late into the game.

But there's a silver parachute floating down.

Anxol quickly catches it and opens it with fumbling hands.

"She must have the whole Capitol behind her if she can still get something this late in the game." Haymitch mutters.

"She has most of it." Vinster grins lopsidedly.

"Another request?" Chaff grunts.

"You guessed it." Vinster replies, staring at the screen intently.

I know Vinster wants a District 5 victor. It's been years since anybody besides the Careers have won. Vinster, Haymitch, and Chaff have been mentoring for what seems like forever.

I wonder what the guilt is like for them. I can barely stand it now.

Anxol pulls out a few wires, just about a few inches of it. She smiles widely and looks up to the sky, no doubt saying a silent thank-you to Vinster.

Quickly, Anxol stops walking and starts fiddling with the wires and her double bladed sword.

In a few minutes, the wire is wrapped securely and intricately around the blades of the sword. As soon as the cameras get a glimpse of what Anxol has done, Vinster goes pale.

"Oh, no." He breathes out, staring at the blades and wire. "Oh, God, no."

We all look strangely at him, but a strange crackling snaps our head back to the screen.

The sword in Anxol's hand is no longer just a double-bladed sword with some wires wrapped in between.

It's _glowing._

A bright pale blue, fizzing with energy, practically _hissing._

She looks directly at the camera and raises the sword high above her head.

Her hair is flying in the wind and plastered onto her face from the rain, standing tall and stiff, her mouth in a small, bitter smile.

But it's her eyes that are the most alarming. A cold, hard grey; hate and strength radiating from it.

As soon as her sword is raised, a bright blue beam erupts from the sword and into the sky, disappearing in the grey clouds.

And then, all of a sudden, the rain isn't rain anymore.

Each droplet turns into a hissing, crackling ball of bright blue light, falling from the sky like shooting stars.

As soon as one lands, there is a sickening _hiss._

But Anxol does not let go of her sword. She holds on tight, the same cold look in her eyes, the rain-sparks still falling thick in the arena.

The trees are buzzing, crackles of blue lacing around the branches.

The floodwater is casting strange blue designs in the water, the brown murky depths turning blue.

One cannon rings.

A second quickly follows.

The third cannon comes seconds after.

The floodwater is no longer brown anymore. It's all a bright blue now, crackling electricity jumping a few feet out of the water.

The arena is all a startling bright blue. All you can see is the blue electricity in the air, falling from the sky, in the trees, in the water. It is chaos.

Soon, the light is too blinding to look at. We all look away and close our eyes, but the light pierces through our eyelids.

But before the lights could blind us, all the screens go black with a loud _zap._

In the mentor's watch room, it is silent. We are all staring at the screen, all thinking the same thing.

"Oh my God." Haymitch breathes, eyes wide. "She electrocuted the arena."

* * *

Thanks for reading!

I know I've said it like three times, but for now, this sub-story is finished. The next story will be up tomorrow, a continuation to this story.  
So if you want to know what happens next, you can read it tomorrow!

In all honesty, I am quite tempted to post the next story up a week from now just to let you guys deal with the cliffhanger(ish) ending.

But NOPE, I've been on the receiving end of the cliffhanger stories, and I won't make you guys suffer any longer than necessary. The next story will be up tomorrow!

And in case you're wondering, the title of the next sub-story will be called 'Panem's Angel' (lame, lame, I know; I'm terrible with titles), so don't forget to check that out tomorrow at the usual(ish) time.

Thank you so much for reading, and if you have any comments, questions, or feedback, please feel free to leave a review!

Until tomorrow!


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